Emily's Saga

by Travis Bughi

  Perhaps that makes me a good person, she thought, but did not feel it in her heart.

  Emily had given up on the concept of being a good person in Juatwa when she’d realized she’d been sent to do the work an angel could not. There was no room for goodly ideals when her entire purpose was to kill—whether it be a traitorous amazon, a plotting shogun, a conniving vampire, or a wicked rakshasa—killing evil did not make murder a good deed.

  I am the right hand of Quartus, she thought, completing his will because he was an angel and could not do what needed to be done.

  It was a fitting thought as she commanded the colossus to strip boulders from the mountains and place them in the cove’s breach. Despite the colossus’ size, Emily had to be selective in the boulders she chose. The colossus was ten times the height of a human, so in comparison to the mountain, it was still rather small. Time was a master greater than any other, even the angels, and time had created some boulders that were simply too large for the colossus to lift. Those were rare, though, and given that the colossus knew nothing of fatigue, it worked at a constant pace under Emily’s commands.

  She wished she could have told it to just ‘build a tunnel,’ but the colossus didn’t work that way. It only obeyed simple commands, such as ‘pick up that rock, bring it there, drop it, turn it,’ and so on until Emily became so bored that she pulled up a log to sit on while she supervised the magnificent stone statue.

  The villagers got little done that day. They stood around, staring for long hours, mouths open in perpetual awe, parents and children alike. Jarl Valgrith was prime among them, watching the colossus travel from the breach to the mountains and back, carrying boulders the size of his cottage with no signs of exertion. It would place a boulder at Emily’s command, turn it until she was satisfied it would stay, and then fill in the gaps with sweeping handfuls of snowy dirt and gravel. Emily did her best to leave a respectable tunnel by having the colossus stack the boulders carefully, but it was simply not possible when her only tools were two stone hands bigger than herself. At the end of the day, the tunnel resembled a natural cavern more than something manmade. Fortunately, this pleased the jarl.

  “I like it,” Valgrith said, nodding with approval at the finished work. “Something like that, orcs might not even guess there were humans on the other side. Some spots might be too tight, but we’ll chisel them out after we let it freeze through another winter. Well done, Emily Stout.”

  The jarl gave Takeo, who’d been seated near him throughout the day, a punch to the shoulder and followed it with a hearty laugh. Takeo tried to hide a scowl, but Emily saw it. She commanded the colossus to retreat into the ocean—slower this time, so it would not make too many waves.

  “Well,” she said. “I’ve held up my end of the bargain.”

  “And I will gladly hold up mine.” Valgrith’s grin was broad. “Tomorrow, of course.”

  He pointed up at the darkened sky, and Emily suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at him. I’m well aware it’s dark, she thought with a long sigh. It had been dark for a while, actually. The sun provided more twilight than any actual daylight. The mountains blocked the majority of it all, encasing the cove in shadows that were never fully removed. It made the air colder, but Emily could not complain because the mountains also blocked the wind. Without the wind, The North didn’t seem half as bad as it had when she’d been sleeping exposed to it on the ice.

  “What kind of viking are you? Can’t you sail at night?” she taunted.

  “I know this cove well enough,” he admitted, “but sailing through a full night along the coast won’t gain us much time. Besides, the ship isn’t ready, and mistakes can be made when eyes can’t see. Just be patient. It’s better to arrive later than not at all.”

  Emily conceded, mostly because she was tired. It surprised her how a full day of sitting around had exhausted her. She blamed the weather, deciding that the torturous cold of The North was just as draining as the torturous heat of Savara. She and Takeo slept in Gelik’s cabin again, wrapped tightly underneath a stack of leather skins and wishing they were alone.

  “Maybe I should have just had the colossus to carry us,” she whispered to him. “Not through the ocean, of course—it isn’t tall enough—but across the land. We could have made decent time.”

  “This will be fastest.” He traced a finger down her back. “And better yet, we won’t get lost. Neither of us knows where to go, and it would have been hard trying to ask directions at every village with a colossus following us. Sailing is better by far, and you made a wise choice in securing us swift passage.”

  Something in Takeo’s speech pricked Emily’s ears. His speech was formal and devoid of cut-off words or partial thoughts, which was a trait nearly all natives of Juatwa shared, but Emily had learned that there were times when even Takeo spoke ‘better’ than his usual self. Oddly enough, he was usually more formal when his mind was somewhere else.

  “You sound,” she paused trying to find the word, “hesitant, or at least distracted. What are you thinking about?”

  His jaw clenched, and Emily worried that perhaps she’d stumbled upon something severe. She even worried he wouldn’t tell her at all, but then he spoke.

  “I’ve known all this time, ever since Juatwa, that you commanded a colossus. I mean, even before that, in Savara, I saw how the angel had changed you, making your blood repel poison. Yet I did not understand what I saw, nor did I fully comprehend what it would mean. I don’t know how I could go on thinking I meant anything at all.”

  Emily stopped and pushed away from Takeo just enough to peer at the spot in the darkness where his voice had come from.

  “What are you saying?” she asked. “You mean everything to me.”

  “I know that,” he sighed, “but that’s not what I meant. What I mean is . . . uh. I never should have said anything.”

  “Too late now. Say it.”

  “All my life, I have been powerful. Okamoto raised me to be ruthless and deadly, and I never lost a fight to anyone but him. And then one day I beat him, too, and I had no more fear of anything in the world. I was brought in by Katsu to serve and protect, and I honestly believed there was no better protection than my sword. I never let it make me arrogant or dismissive, for my brother had raised me to understand that one should never give any advantage to an enemy, but my confidence solidly sat on my belief in my ability. Seeing the colossus today, Emily, shook that confidence.

  “When we were in Savara, I saw that you needed me. When we were in Juatwa, I gave you everything, even my heart. I knew you had a purpose, a destiny, and I thought to add myself to it and thus help you achieve it. In pure vanity, I thought I had actually helped. Today, I saw that I am merely a spectator.”

  Emily felt tears in her eyes, though she couldn’t recall when they’d arrived. One dropped down her cheek, and she wiped it away. Takeo’s hand came up and touched her face, and she did the same to him.

  “What are you saying?” she begged. “Are you saying you won’t help me?”

  “No!” he said quickly. “I will, Emily, I will. I will do anything you ask me to, even if it will cost me my life. That’s something I feel will come easily to the samurai in me, but I’ve only just come to realize that even a sacrifice of that magnitude will mean little to what you can and will accomplish in this world.”

  Emily’s face was blank, and though he couldn’t see it, he read her silence well enough and pulled her lips to his.

  “I love you, Emily,” he said, “and I know you love me, too, but that alone doesn’t make me your equal. When Ingrid told us Jabbar was still alive, I rationalized that I could protect you from him by staying close at your side. I had fought him once before and wouldn’t hesitate to fight him again. I thought to myself that, together, you and I could stand against all, but then I saw the colossus, and it struck me that I had become absorbed in my own legend. I am no more than a skilled swordsman, but you are something so much more. There are forces at play that eclipsed m
y simple existence long ago, and you are one of them. Quartus saw it first, then Katsu, and now Lady Xuan. Not to mention that somewhere out there, Jabbar is raising an army, and the only person who will haunt his dreams is you. He’ll know full well I’m alive, but he’ll never waste a thought on me, only you, Emily, as it always has been. I just couldn’t see it until now. I suppose that makes me the luckiest man in world to know a woman like you.”

  He kissed her again, but the kiss she gave him was feeble, and her lips did not part. She tried to swallow what Takeo could only have meant as a compliment, but she’d never taken compliments well. They were foreign to her and often caused more blushing than fulfillment, depending on whom they came from.

  But when Takeo finished his speech, speaking his mind as Emily had commanded, the only thing she felt was emptiness. It was as if Takeo’s words had rocked not only his own confidence, but hers as well. She felt alone and cold, despite being wrapped in his warm arms, and that sickened her. It wasn’t that she wanted to escape him, quite the contrary. She wanted to slip back into his warmth like she had every night before, comfortable and safe in his arms, because she wanted to believe that he could protect her from harm. His dark eyes, hard body, and calm demeanor had always instilled within her the strength she’d envied in others. She felt stronger in his presence, tougher and quicker, too. With him, she felt no challenge was too great.

  And he’d just robbed her of that.

  It made her want to hit him. She wanted to lash out and punch him square in the chest. How could he possibly take that from her? So easily, so quickly! It was like a knife to her chest, and the corners of her mouth tugged down while her nose began to stuff up and her cheeks warmed.

  “Damn you,” she whispered.

  She kissed him anyway, and he kissed her back, and his cheeks were warm, too. He had no words to respond, and Emily thought she preferred it that way. He’d already said enough, just enough to shatter the illusion that anyone else in this world could share her burden.

  It was always an illusion, she realized.

  She went to sleep distraught and angry, her body only a tad weary enough to overcome her sorrow. Her dreams opened with the colossus, but on a whim, she dismissed the statue from her mind and entered a real dream that swallowed her subconscious.

  It was a dream of home. Yellow grass, slow rolling hills, a father and mother who taught her a simple life, and two brothers whom she could always count on. They looked like they were struggling, but, in reality, they were thriving. They grew under the guidance of love and care, knowing that they had each other for whatever life would throw at them. Emily had taken it all for granted. Every . . . single . . . moment. Not even her dream could protect her from the guilt she felt, and amongst the seas of yellow grass, she bent to her knees and wept. Her family joined her, and they wept, too. Then she awoke with dry cheeks and realized she could hide in her dreams no longer.

  She arose long before dawn, slipping out of bed without disturbing Takeo. She dressed quietly, like a ninja, and slipped out of the cottage into the icy, dark embrace of The North. There was a moon out, and to Emily’s dark-adjusted eyes, it was more than enough light to see her safely to the water’s edge. Once there, she glanced back to make sure she was alone. The darkness made her search uncertain, but she saw no reason for anyone to hide. Then she reached out with her mind and uttered a command. The colossus rose from the sea, as slowly and as carefully as it could so as to not disturb the sleeping village. The water clinging to its stone body began to freeze the moment it touched the air, making the colossus’ stone skin shimmer and crack as it moved. That was only the ice, though, and the colossus felt no pain, emotion, or temperature. It knew only obedience.

  So it rose to the shore and sat cross-legged before Emily. She knew it didn’t understand the reasons she made it sit so casually, but it made her comfortable all the same. It was an illusion of sentience, only now she understood it was an illusion.

  No more lies, she thought.

  “I know you can’t hear me,” she said to the colossus, “but I don’t think there’s anyone else to talk to anymore. I figure that, in this place, you’ll be the best listener because I know you won’t judge me. I’ve spoken to you once before, and something magnificent happened then, so perhaps it’s not crazy to hope for another miracle.”

  Trickles of water cascaded down the colossus’ face and body until they froze or dropped. The ocean waves continued to slide around the obstruction while it sat perfectly still awaiting Emily’s next command. Its grey eyes, completely smoothed over and devoid of any humanity, seemed so opposite of the dark eyes awaiting her back in the cabin that for a moment she thought this was all a mistake. Then she shook it off and made herself stare at the colossus’ lifeless, helmet-encased face.

  “Have you ever killed anyone?” she asked. “Did the angels ever use you as anything other than a deterrent to war? I’m guessing they didn’t, based on the fact that Quartus could not do it himself. He could no more command me to kill anyone than he could command you.

  “I see it all now, thanks to Takeo. In that dream so long ago, when I’d almost died, Quartus asked me what I would do with my life. I told him I would avenge my grandmother, and he saved me. Later on, I would wonder why he didn’t just say the words, ‘Kill Count Drowin, Ichiro Katsu, and anyone else who threatens to destroy this world when I have gone.’ It seemed such an oversight to me then, but now I fully understand. He couldn’t command me to do these things because they were beyond him. He couldn’t dream of violence, retribution, or inflicting such pain, and so he could not utter them to me either. I believe you have remained just as innocent as him from the moment you were made.

  “I have some terrible, but honest news for you: that ends now. You follow my command and my will, and it is my purpose you will carry on your shoulders. You will kill, and destroy, and sow terror in the hearts of those who would do others harm. I don’t have to explain any of this to you—my reasons why. You’ll understand none of it. The fear your presence brings is lost on you, for your soul is as hollow as your body is solid. In truth, you are little more than a very complex, very ancient arrow. So expect to be used as such.”

  Emily stopped because she realized she was rambling. The colossus hadn’t moved, and yet somehow, the world around it had grown darker. The shadows seemed longer, the moon less bright, and the waves black as night. The colossus looked eerie in the darkness, with the low light casting down on its chiseled body at odd angles. It looked almost demonic, like a transcended version of a gargoyle. For a brief moment, Emily feared it, and then the moment passed.

  The only thing terrifying here was her.

  “No more games.” She stood up while speaking to the colossus. “We do what we have to. I didn’t take an angel’s life just to balk at the necessities of this world. That jarl laughed at me because it took him only a moment to realize I was still a child, expecting the world would be fair if I treated it with fairness in return. Well, I’m not, and this world isn’t. No fair world would slay an angel, let alone four. No fair world would suffer slavery. No fair world would have killed my grandmother.

  “So when Jabbar comes for me, I will not be fair. I will be ready.”

  Chapter 12

  It took a trivial amount of time to set sail that morning. Despite the still lingering dark, Jarl Valgrith and his crew were more than experienced enough to haul some supplies onto the ship and slip out into the ocean waters. The cove was long out of sight before the slowly rising sun tipped the horizon. This pleased Emily greatly, and she was even gracious enough to show it by smiling and treating Takeo as if he had not spent the previous night belittling himself. He, in turn, had manners enough to be embarrassed, but sense enough not to bring it up. His first activity on the ship was to help the vikings row, while Emily leaned on the ship’s railing, astern near the rudder where Jarl Valgrith was steering his vessel.

  Viking ships were different than pirate ships, and though Emily had only b
een on one pirate ship and a couple of viking ships for a short time, the differences were stark enough to pique her interest. She realized she’d never asked about viking ships the last time she’d been on one, so now she quizzed the jarl about those differences. Graciously, he helped slake her thirst for knowledge.

  A pirate ship was large, easily having three to four levels. With several masts, it had plenty of sails to catch enough wind to move the thing forward. Ropes, rigging, and ladders crisscrossed every inch of the ship, allowing those sails to catch the wind at various angles. The captain steered such a vessel by a large wheel on the very top deck that controlled the rudder, far below them in the waters. The many rooms of a pirate ship provided lots of space to store loot, weapons, and ammunition for the heavy cannons they carried. Being so large, it wasn’t practical for it to be rowed by oars of any size. A pirate ship moved by wind alone and sunk so deep into the water that it could never go ashore. The only way to reach land from a pirate ship was either by a dock that reached out to them, by swimming, or by taking a small boat, called a launch.

  A viking ship was certainly different. It was wider, for one, which made its bottom shallower than a pirate’s. It was so much shallower, in fact, that one could be dragged up onto shore by the crew and launched again like a common rowboat. It also glided better, allowing for the crew to row the vessel with huge, two-man oars when the winds were not in favor of their sails. A jarl could steer his or her ship with nothing more than a small boom attached directly to the rudder, pushing or pulling it like a secondary oar to direct the vessel. The ship’s shallow bottom also made it smaller, though, with only two levels at most, a deck and a below deck, with no private rooms like that of a pirate ship. The jarl slept along with his crew in the wide open cavern of the ship’s belly.

  A viking ship also lacked cannons, which vikings considered cowardly. Cannons were also heavy, which slowed a ship down, and vikings preferred to strike fast, get close, and slay their foes by hand. It was the only way any warrior would ever reach Valhalla, they claimed.